Yesterday, I thought if I wrote about what makes me happy, that the aching grief in me would dampened down. But, instead it got more painful.

So, I have decided to face my fears head-on.

The Ipswich murders have reminded of the reality of day-to-day dangers that I and most other prostituted had to survive. The terror of that period that part of my life is wanting to be heard.

I could not feel fear when I lived as a prostituted woman and girl. To show even the smallest sign of fear would given the men who used me too much pleasure.

I learnt to become an actor. I show the men nothing of myself.

Instead I became silent. I could pretend to be “happy” in order to try and prevent it hurting too much. I buried myself.

This was necessary to survive. But, it did not keep me safe.

Most of my grief comes from this question.

Why am I not dead?

When I hear of murdered prostitued women and girls, this question rattles round my brain. I have no answer – only I feel like screaming or crying.

I know women who had so much to live who could live any more. I was no different from them.

This is how too many people choose to see prostituted women. They will be ignored in life, and make them invisible in death.

I should be dead because I try so hard to die. Suicide is not easy.

I wonder if my spirit that I ignored was too stubborn to die.

I should be dead because many men played with my life and death. It was a “game” to bring on the edge of death, then to “save” my life.

I know the reason I have blanked out so most of that time is because I went in and out of consciousness.

Being on the edge of death, made me unable to know where I was. I would forget who I was.

All I was a lump that laying as still as I could, feeling like this moment of terror will never end.

This is my grief. I try to use language to describe it, but it always feel like I can never make it better.

I feel that as I had no justice, I find it hard to feel at peace.

4 responses to “Grief

  1. It is very hard dealing with the grief of a lost childhood and adulthood especially when it was caused by men’s callousness and sexual sadism. Wanting justice and knowing the reality is these men will never be brought to justice is very hard to deal with. All I know is that some days are better than others and just when we think we have ‘recovered’ something happens which throws us back in that hell hole again.

    All I know is something kept you alive Rebecca – I don’t know what it is or was but something did and you were not meant to die but instead you were meant to live in order to speak out about the callous and cynical way prostituted women are dismissed as though they were just filth. It is hard very hard I know especially when this trial is being given such salacious coverage. So, I just hope may be just may be tomorrow will be a little better for you.


  2. I can only second what Jennifer said, Rebecca. It was so nice to learn more about you in your previous post, your love of cats and football.

    I don’t know what to say. I just hope you can keep writing and keep confronting the things that have happened to you and the feelings, as I think to stay silent would be the worst thing to do. x


  3. I did not think it would work. But, I found that writing plainly how I was feeling, made me able to release some of the grief. Thanks so much for caring comments.
    Anyhow Arsenal are playing Tottenham, and losing – now that’s real grief.


  4. Rebecca, I agree with what Jennifer and Debs said.

    I’m so sad to hear that you feel down again, but I’m glad to hear that your writings have at least helped you release some of the grief.

    I do hope that you get better. You’ve been so incredibly strong to survive, already.

    All the best,



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